


Spiegel

by Togale (amoralisch)



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Brotherly Bonding, Depression, Family Issues, Going to Hell
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2015-02-06
Packaged: 2018-03-10 19:12:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3300521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amoralisch/pseuds/Togale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reckless, up to his neck in debt demon slayer Dante gets a message straight from the depths of hell. Can he find his way into the demon realm to find his thought to be lost brother? Abandoned in hell, what did become of Vergil?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Language, violence, blood & gore, some angst, a slightly different picture of hell than a certain book taught us (no religious flames please) - that's about it. In case I missed something, it will be updated in the upcoming chapters.  
> -Story needs a beta-

_DANTEE_ … Gravity proved itself as being as powerful as ever, as Dante was suddenly yanked awake and shifted his balance point out of the awkward position he had been dozing in. What had been supposed to be a startled yelp, ended up as a harsh intake of less oxygen and more lukewarm bathwater. Slippery hands clawed at the edge of the tub and pulled his upper body back into a vertical position. Coughing and spitting, Dante swiped his now soaking hair out of his face and looked around suspiciously. It must have been his imagination playing tricks on him again. A voice – no, not just any voice; his voice, as harsh as a lingering nightmare, so piercing, that it had jerked him out of his slumber. Dante leaned back once more and closed his eyes with a sigh.  _Great, now I'm becoming paranoid as well_.  _Just what I needed, really._

He glanced at the lazy swirls of steam rising to the ceiling through half-lidded eyes. The walls, somewhat dirty with a yellow coating and black spots of mold blooming along the seams, were covered in thousands of small water droplets. Humidity added to them, made them flow together and down the tiles, until they accumulated into heavy drops of cold water and ended back up inside the tub. Not long now and the bathwater would get cold. The chilly air raised goose bumps on his arms that hung carelessly over the brim of the bathtub to prevent another suffocating experience. The wind howled outside and rattled at his old windows, made them crash closed, only to yank them open again a moment later to repeat the cycle over and over. He couldn't get them to close anymore since last year but never made the effort to fix them; let alone to pay someone else to do that for him. Why bother? That thought crossed his mind more often lately.

Business was slow, down to the point where you could call it non-existing. The old telephone on the antique mahogany desk hadn't disturbed the silence in the office in ages. It was rather depressing. That had been different, though. Since the resurrection of Temen-ni-gru, demon hunting business was booming. Every day, new faces appeared in the city, hunting for fame, money, or simply the thrill of chasing after the unknown. At first, Dante had been drowning in phone calls and desperate clients. The nights had been busy and the days flew by in a rush, leaving no time for regrets or worries.

But slowly, things had changed. It had started with an unsuspicious letter, which Dante had never read. It had been lost between a bunch of other white envelopes and, at some point, had found its way into the trash, most likely after one of the infamous clamors of the two young women at the office. Trish and Lady had come by frequently at that time. Business was good enough two share most of the jobs and if the three of them were working together, there was no offer they would have to refuse. Not that Dante would have refused anything. Sometimes, he just felt like some company.

The first letter had been followed by two more and each of them had a similar content with a slightly different wording, which became more and more impending. Oblivious to all of that, Dante had opened the door to his office one morning, to be confronted with two black suits and another letter. This time, he couldn't ignore it any longer. That had been the infamous day the devil hunter Dante had been arrested. He had been charged with the destruction of the city, caused by Temen-ni-gru, as well as the 213 fatalities the resurrection of the tower had caused and things had looked grave. With Vergil gone, no one would believe the story about an evil twin brother who had raised a demonic tower to return to the demon world.

Lady and Trish testified as well but in the end, it remained one of the most spectacular and questionable cases of all time. After being under arrest for several weeks during the process, Dante had been set free but what remained was the horrendous sum he had to pay as compensations. He had never seen so many zeros in his life. If Lady hadn't helped him back then, Dante hadn't known how to repay such a huge amount of money.

From that day on business had changed. The girls were still trying to help him but Dante didn't repay them with gratitude. He felt betrayed and since the lone nights in prison, he finally had found time to reflect on the things he and his twin brother had done. It left him with a single, burning regret: he had let Vergil, his only family, fall into hell to be lost forever.

Vergil. He had lost his brother three times now but the last time had such a final feeling to it that it made him swallow hard every time he remembered his last heroic show down with Nelo Angelo. Vergil was gone.

* * *

"Dante!" Lady came into the office. For such a young and petite person, one would be amazed how much temper was hidden under the surface. She made her way over to the desk, where Dante was sleeping away the evening. The hunter didn't move. She grabbed the lower boot clad foot of her friend and lifted it from the desk until the young hunter lost his balance and toppled backwards with a surprised gasp. He didn't fall though. Dante's reflexes were even in such an intoxicated state able to save him from a disgraceful meeting with the dirty floorboards. In the last moment, Dante kicked his other leg out to jam it below the desktop and regain his balance. One lost fight against gravity was enough for one day. It took him a slurred, unintelligible curse to finally face his angry business partner.

"What do you want?" he barked at her, unwilling to give up his favorite position at his desk. Instead he pulled at his captured leg, until she let go again. It fell back onto the desk with a loud thud. The smell of whiskey lingered between them. All Lady needed was a short look beneath the desk to spot the carelessly thrown empty bottles there.

"What do I want? Are you serious, you drunk fool? What happened to the job I gave you this morning?"

"Done that," came the not less slurred reply.

"'Done that' when? Before or after the demon tried to skin our client alive?" Her loud voice was jabbing knifes into his brain, she could tell by the way he cringed.

"Theaa wasn' a bloody demon. All theaa was 's a scares girl, who wanted me to hunta stupid shadow…" He put a hand over his closed eyes.

"And you did what? Went to hunt some Jack instead?" The corners of his mouth pulled into a grin to that accusation. "You better do your job and hunt those shadows down next time. Our client was attacked this afternoon and if you still believe her shadow went into the kitchen and attacked her with a knife, you can stay here and drown the rest of your brain cells in cheap whiskey. Otherwise move your sorry ass out there and track down that demon!" The grin was wiped from his face instantly. He heard her turn around and walk to the door. "Oh, and one more thing. If you show up to a job I gave you drunk ever again, I'll personally riddle your half demon body with bullets until even demonic healing can't save you anymore." And the door fell closed again.

* * *

_Human bodies are a frail thing_ , Dante thought. After he had stumbled into his bathroom in the back of his office, shoved two fingers down his throat and a long, rather chilly shower, he had finally made his way back outside again. By then, it had been night and the streets had been mostly empty. He had found his way back to the young woman's home. There had been traces at the door, traces of a break-in. She must have called the ambulance but hadn't been able to open the door afterwards. It would need some fixing later. Dante had opened it silently and moved inside the apartment. He had inhaled deeply and let his nose guide him into the kitchen. There had been blood on the floor, a lot of it. Skinned alive, he had thought. The smell of the demon had still lingered behind. Cursing under his breath, Dante had left the apartment again. It had taken him all night to hunt down the demon that had attacked the young woman. She wasn't the only victim but she was the only client he had had this week. And he had failed. Ebony and Ivory had been enough to finish the creature from hell; a demon that would hunt down its victims to eat their skin, leaving them behind to bleed to death. How could he have dismissed it as a made-up story? It was true, that they had to deal with those a lot. People were making things up and since demon attacks got worse since Temen-ni-gru, those made-up stories increased as well. Separating the lies and rumors from the real missions was part of the job. He had messed up. It became painfully clear to him as he sat next to the bed of the young woman he had seen this morning. He couldn't recognize her anymore. If she would survive, she would remain disfigured for the rest of her life. A part of him wished she wouldn't survive. He hated that part.


	2. I

When Dante came home, Lady was already waiting. Also, when Dante came back home, Lady was already pissed off. That told him that she had gotten wind of his last-supposedly-lucrative job. Well, supposed to be was the caveat here. Rebellion found its way into the wall right behind his desk. For the lack of proper mounting, the sword had been pierced into the wall some while ago, and now slid into the gaping crack effortlessly. Ebony and Ivory clattered onto the desktop and right next to them came down two heavy, muddy leather boot clad feet. The young woman on the red leather couch watched her so-called business partner, who was already pretending to be asleep to avoid any kind of conversation. He wouldn't have such luck with her.

"Got anything you wanna tell me?" she asked and crossed her arms in front of her chest. She had spent some time inside his office already, waiting for Dante to return but the hunter had kept her waiting. She didn't feel uncomfortable inside his home, as long as it wasn't in too chaotic a state, in fact, it could be quite relaxing sometimes. As if to demonstrate that, she placed one of her steel capped combat boots onto his coffee table, exposing the pale skin of the insides of her legs. The only thing keeping wandering eyes in check were those skintight shorts under her too short skirt that reminded Dante of a relict from her school uniform every time he looked at her.

"No," he kept his answer as short as possible. Better not add fuel to the fire. He could feel it burning already, no need to heat it up even more.

"No, of course not. Mind giving me the money you owe me?" The money, it always came down to the money. Yes, he owed her money, more than he thought he could possibly ever earn to repay her, but he had his own problems too and even though he tried to keep them buried and hidden, women were supposed to have a sixth sense for something like that, right? Not this one. Oh, she could sniff out every last penny he had, alright. That was her special power.

"No money, sweetheart. Not today." He kept his eyes closed and kept his voice low. He could hear her coming over to him, sitting next to him on the desk. The heat was closing in, but was still blazing underneath. He could tell by what was supposed to be her casual tone.

"Were have you been?" He took a deep breath. The smell of gunpowder and oil always lingered around her. He liked that smell.

"Hunting." He didn't have to look to notice her attention directed at his desk. Lady had a thing for guns and she always had been interested in those heavily customized twin guns. His left foot uncrossed his right and slammed down right next to Ivory, blocking her sight.

"Did you kill those demons?" She already knew that he hadn't finished the job. There had been word, that their client had a contract with a different mercenary now.

"Sent them back where they came from, each of them with a good bye kiss from those two." His foot nudged the white gun.

"Why?" There was disbelief in her voice and he knew where it came from. She didn't believe him a liar. She knew he had killed those demons if he said so. The thing was, he had done it for free. "What happened?"

"I'm not exactly the most popular guy out there right now, Lady. Killer of over two hundred people, the man who brought a bunch of demons into this city, the guy who raised this big ass tower and caused a whole district to collapse… any of that ringing a bell? Not the kind of guy I would hire to protect my daughter from a bunch of demons." He had heard some nasty things and accusations since the whole Temen-ni-gru business had started. People didn't forget so fast, not with all the evidence still lurking around them. "What? You asking me why I killed them anyway? Isn't one flayed girl enough?"

"That was not what I was asking! But why do you even let them treat you like that? You are not Vergil, for god's sake! You are not responsible for his mess!" He knew she was furious for his sake. He was grateful for that but it didn't change anything.

"Glad we talked about it," he said and decided to sleep the rest of the evening away.

* * *

Jobs became even more scarce after that. Dante never had thought about having trouble with other hunters. Most of them were not even the real deal so, either some unlucky rookie would get himself killed by a real demon or those con men would ruin their names for not finishing anything. It hadn't mattered to him. He knew he was one of the few real hunters in town and so, business should come to him. Should. Yet it didn't. There were rumors that some of the elder mercenaries blackened his name behind his back, men he had worked with before, a long time ago. Things changed, often times for the worse. How long until he would hit rock bottom? Dante didn't know. Right now, he didn't want to think about it. There were only a few bars that would still welcome him, accepting his lies about paying later. His debt, he realized, was closing in on him. It had surrounded him and would come to hunt him soon.

The few jobs he got paid for didn't change his situation much. Most of the money went straight into Lady's bottomless pocket, the rest… well. As run down as it was, Dante had to pay the bills for his office/home and once in a while, he had to clear his tab at his favorite pizza delivery service or they would ignore his calls. If that left him anything, he would carry it into the next bar to gamble. His rotten luck was infamous and if it wasn't for his still improving cheating skills, he would have left empty handed every time. That wasn't the kind of life Dante had in mind when he had opened his business. He could deal with the lies, he didn't mind the eyes following him around and he certainly didn't mind slow business now and then as long as he could make ends meet. Nothing of all that was new to him, yet he had the feeling that it got worse every day. Or  _he_  was.

If the phone kept silent for too long, Dante went out on his own. The demon inside him could get restless now and then and he dreaded that feeling. The city was crawling with demons and he never had to search very long to find something to keep his blood thirst in check.

Sometimes, people crossed his way that didn't stop at whispering behind his back about the infamous hunter in red. They confronted him with accusations and threats and all he could do was remind himself, that those people were only human, were the ones he wanted to protect; humans he had decided to live along with. They wouldn't believe his story about Vergil's crusade for power; in fact, they didn't even believe his twin brother existed. In those moments, Dante once again wished, his brother had taken his offered hand instead of choosing hell. It made him want to open the doors of hell and drag Vergil back to confront him with the mess he had left his brother to take care of. But Vergil wouldn't take responsibility towards humans. Beneath them, Vergil would say, humans were beneath them. Easy for you to say, Dante thought and turned around to go home. Behind him, another woman, who claimed to have lost her home in the chaos the dark tower had caused cursed him in such a colorful way, it made him frown and bite back a witty comeback.

It was Wednesday evening, as Trish and Lady dropped by his office the next time. Both were surrounded by the certain air of cheerfulness, which always left Dante with the alarming feeling of wariness. Something was not right. He couldn't quite put his finger on it yet, as they kept chatting about all kinds of insignificant things. Maybe they had done something. Did  _she say new shoes right now?_  His thoughts wavered between sinking back into sweet, ignorant carelessness and paying attention to what the two were talking about. He cracked one eye open and glanced at them from his sanctuary, formed be a colorful magazine of sports cars. He couldn't care less about new shoes girls seemed to like so much. It was a mystery to him anyway. They always acted like they had found the ultimate piece of footwear, stuffed in stale smelling cardboard boxes and made a huge deal out of it. But oh surprise, this treasure lost its value almost immediately and the quest to find the perfect shoe began anew. He dreaded shoe shopping but the only time Lady had convinced him to tag along had taught him one and one thing only. Shoes were ridiculously expensive. They wouldn't buy them and send him the bill, would they? They had done something like that before. – No, he decided, that wasn't it. There was no nervous glance in his direction, no trace of guilt or even mischievousness. So a new prank? But then, Lady let the cat out of the bag.

"Hey Dante, are you listening?" No, he hadn't been. All the talk about cross-strapped ballerinas in colors he never had heard of had made his mind retreat again.

"No," he admitted without feeling ashamed about it.

"About The Pit," she said and her cheerfulness dimmed down like a candle drowning in too much wax. The Pit was a local bar and, more important, his favorite spot to meet the other mercenaries and middle men. If everything failed, he could always go there to get one of the jobs the middle men had to offer. The pay wasn't great but it was always better than nothing. "You better keep your distance for a while." That got his attention all right. The magazine hit the desktop with a snap at the same spot his boots had been a moment ago. He crossed his arms on the polished wood.

"Why? Place closed?" The girls exchanged looks with each other as to debate silently who should tell him.

"No. They kind of – uhm – banned you from there," Lady said finally.

"For now," Trish added almost a bit too hasty.

"Yeah, for now. So, it's no big deal." They looked at him expectedly.

"And you were sent here to deliver the message?" Dante concluded and fixed his eyes on Lady, although he was talking to both of them. Sometimes, he thought it easier to read her. She didn't say anything to answer his question, but the look in her eyes told him enough. "I see. Well, the place was a run down hole anyway." He leaned back again and pretended to have lost his interest in the matter but he saw the look the girls exchanged again from the corner of his eyes.

 


	3. II

The first time he had put Ivory to his temple had made him hesitate. The certainty that a bullet to the head wouldn't be enough to kill him hadn't helped much. It was survival instinct, the same that caused him to dodge swords, fangs, bullets and all the other nasty things his enemies threw his way. Mind over matter, wasn't that how the teaching went? Mind over matter. Free will. There were only few animals in this world which would commit suicide. Killing oneself wasn't something that was achieved during the evolution of the human mind; or better yet, its regression – but it seemed that way sometimes. The eternal dance of life; two steps forth, one back. Depression. Was he depressed? Dante's lips pulled taught with a half-hearted smirk. He didn't know if he would use the word depressed. He felt half dead. It was the void of losing his twin brother, the only one alike to him he knew. It was like a hole ripped into his very being. He knew, Ivory wouldn't change that. Yet, he had pulled the trigger. A bullet right through his frontal lobe that had let him fall bonelessly to the floor, wiping every thought, every emotion away for the moment. It became his sanctuary. Dante had shot himself three times this week already. It got easier each time.

But memories couldn't be wiped out like that, they returned to him each time, so did the emotions involved. I'm not suicidal, he thought. There were enough demons out there that would gladly end his life for him, yet he killed every single one of them if their paths crossed. His survival instinct was as strong as ever, the only thing that had suffered was his self-esteem.

Grumbling, Dante leaned back in his chair and used one boot-clad foot to get rid of the trash accumulating on his desk. He did so in a swiping motion before his feet both rested on top of the dusty, wooden surface. No need for a magazine to shut out the daylight, it was past midnight already. He had just finished one of the rare jobs this evening; a demon infested factory that had been in need of his exterminating skills. He had been paid in cash but none of that money had made it home with him. He had used it to settle some of his debts. His place might have seen better days but he made sure to keep hot water and electricity running. What hadn't been used for bills was spent on pizza and more booze. All told, it had been a pretty unexciting day, busier than most but still just a random day. Dante knew he was in desperate need of some change in his life but couldn't come up with a solution. He picked up a half empty bottle of Jack and glanced at it lazily. No reason to stay sober tonight.

"This is to you, bro. Wherever you are." He raised the bottle in a mocking salute and smirked crookedly with half-lidded eyes. There was no doubt that his twin would be alive and scheming somewhere right now, plotting his next great act and to hell with humanity if they got in the way. And people called him carefree, Dante had to laugh at that.

_Vergil_. He had lost his brother three times now. But the last time had such a final feeling to it that it made Dante swallow hard every time he had to think about it. Vergil was gone. He tried to ignore it. He didn't talk about his twin, not to other people at least, didn't search for him. But as soon as he found himself with too much time on his hands, quite frankly, that had been every day lately, his brother kept creeping back into his thoughts.  _Like poison_ , Dante thought. And now those creepy voices he heard - or imagined, he wasn't quite sure yet. His brother just wouldn't let him go.

The Vergil Dante knew was all too often misunderstood since he could remember. Back when they were just kids, he and Vergil had often played together like all brothers would. Granted, later there had been some larger amount of bloodshed involved, but what else could have been expected from two half demon boys, who only began to grasp the concept of their inheritance and the involved demonic healing powers? Sword training had been a part of their daily routine since they were old enough to hold their weapons. Yet, there had been moments when the two of them hadn't been alone or in the sanctuary of their still intact family. Even though they were half demons, Dante and Vergil had to find their place among a human society. They had to adapt. Not physically; they both were lucky to be born with an almost human appearance. The only thing that made them stand out was their pure white hair. They had to adapt socially, like everyone growing up in human society. Although they were twins, they both chose a very different approach. Dante became his somehow more carefree self, who didn't remain alone for long, no matter where he went. Vergil on the other hand acted like he could see a constant reminder of the difference between himself and everyone else, whenever he looked at Dante or his own reflection in the mirror. It made him act more reserved, what caused people around him to adapt in return and give him more space. Loners weren't born; they were created, formed by their surroundings. It always went like that; it was perfect social dynamic that had nothing to do with him being a half-bread. Yet, Vergil wanted to believe it. Later, Dante heard people talk very differently about them. They called him charming, outgoing and funny, while they said that Vergil was acting cold, was arrogant and even cruel. In his opinion, his brother wasn't arrogant and could be quite funny at the most unexpected moments of all. But Dante also understood how people could get this negative impression of his brother. Sometimes, it made him upset. It made him want to shout at them, to show them that they were wrong and that all Vergil needed was a chance. He was hopelessly optimistic in that matter. His brother didn't even want a chance to change their image of him. He didn't want to mingle and stay close. All he needed to do was blend in enough to survive among humans.

Sighing, Dante gulped down what was left of his whiskey. The empty bottle fell to the floor and found its new place among the trash. He didn't care. It was highly unlikely that a customer would stumble into his office any time soon. Maybe one of the girls would come by and clean the place up. He would never hear the end of it, naturally but he didn't give a damn about it right now. The alcohol was just enough to take the edge off so he could drift off to sleep.

* * *

_DANTEE_ … Trusty Ebony and Ivory found their way into his hands even before his boots could hit the ground. Dante felt his muscles unpleasantly tensing as his gaze darted around the room, while his guns pointed at empty air. No, still no demon invasion and even though his ears tried to pick up the slightest whisper, he could hear nothing out of the ordinary.  _Damn it!_  He could swear he had heard something - someone calling his name. He wasn't going crazy for fucks sake. Maybe some kind of demon tried to be funny and haunt him. He took one more forced breath to calm himself and lowered his guns. The room was stifling and the air smelled stale. Sweat made his skin feel sticky after his sudden awakening, it felt disgusting. Groaning, Dante rubbed his eyes and pressed the heels of his hands against them. What the hell was wrong with him?

He stood up and pulled his shirt over his head. He left it on the floor on his way into the kitchen.  _Well, damn..._  It was getting hard to find anything in this mess, quite impossible if one was looking for clean dishes. Dante gracelessly stepped over some trash on the floor. Somewhere, he knew, somewhere hidden in this mess was his last stash of whiskey. To hell with staying sober and to hell with haunting memories. To hell - yea maybe not the worst idea after all.

* * *

One thing common sense told you was, that you should not take a bath when you were dead drunk and already half asleep after another long, lousy day. Dante however was telling himself that half-breeds played by their own rules and he was sure Vergil would agree with him. So once again he was lying in lukewarm bathwater, so relaxed he almost slipped into comfortable sleep. Morpheus' welcoming arms would open every moment now, beckoning him to fall into the sweet embrace of nothingness. A almost empty bottle of Jack lay forgotten on the cold, dirty bathroom floor. Morpheus was whispering to him now; sweet, sweet little words, meaningless yet oh so welcome. He listened to them, understanding nothing. It didn't matter. He didn't want to. He knew the voice was telling him that everything would be alright. Lies. More lies. They formed a soothing lullaby. Then another voice drowned the low whispers.  _DANTEE_... He jerked awake with a start, clammy, white-knuckled hands gripping the cold surface of the tub. He knew that voice. It had been clearer this time, frighteningly so.

"Vergil?" Dante asked warily. Looking around in the scarcely lit room, he found nothing. "Vergil?" he tried again, louder this time. Oh, it suited his brother to let him wait in a moment like this. "Alright, bro. Either you've got something to say or not. I won't hold my breath," he threatened. Still nothing. It was an empty threat, of course. There was no way he could simply ignore his twin after so long. But even after half an hour there hadn't been as much as another whisper from the older son of Sparda. It left Dante with enough time to speculate about his brother's motives though. The water was long cold and he climbed out of the old tub, not bothering to dry himself. His feet left wet prints on the floor as he made his way upstairs. Dante felt a new sensation creeping up on him. It was an old feeling, long forgotten, but like an itch, hard to ignore. He had felt like this before, it was a feeling reserved for the anticipation of his twin's schemes. There seldom came anything good from them and most of the time everyone involved ended up in trouble. Somehow only Vergil seemed to ignore that.

With a long forgotten urgency the hunter dressed, grabbed his guns and left the office. Time to gather some information, he thought and headed out to find some old acquaintances. If his brother really had found his way back into the human world, someone must know about it.

* * *

Hours later the doors to Devil May Cry fell shut loudly behind a brooding devil hunter. No one, no mercenary, no informant, no low live, demon scum had known anything about Vergil. All his sources had been useless. But Dante wasn't satisfied. It hadn't been his imagination. He was sure of that. But why? Why was Vergil calling him now? What had changed? Surely his brother had no regrets about their past encounters. Even if he had any, his pride would forbid him to admit it out loud. Then why? Dante scratched the back of his head and growled in frustration.

"Family business?" he muttered. It left a bitter taste in his mouth.

 


End file.
